Poesis Rediviva | ||
Sectaries.
See of phanatique fowlers a fresh shole,With baits of Liberty who decoy the Soul.
Copernicism these by their whimsies prove;
Where all are giddy, how can the Earth not move?
Schisms weathercocks, with every wind turn round:
That faith's as light as aire which hath no ground.
Camelion-like with every object change,
VVhose faith is fancy, how can he choose but range?
Snails of all Heresies which contract the slime;
Spunges which suck in all the dregs of time:
Mix with the puddle of their fancies wine
Of sacred VVrit, intitle sin Divine;
Honying their poison, sugaring o're their sin:
VVithout an Angel, Devil is within.
All these adulterers of Sacred VVrit,
Each doth a Concubine to his fancy fit.
A various glosse, on which his fancy set,
A spurious brood of Sectaries doth beget.
16
VVhile they the Idols of their Fancies love.
Poesis Rediviva | ||